


Dirty Air

by gracemurphy



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Multi, NASCAR, dub-con scenes, teen and up rating but mature in some chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-04 08:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10987128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracemurphy/pseuds/gracemurphy
Summary: NASCAR’s golden trio: the charming billionaire Tony Stark, the all-American boy-next-door Steve Rogers and loveable foreign import Thor Odinson have dominated the series since it was crippled by controversy five years ago leading them to be affectionally dubbed as ‘The Avengers’. However, the wave must crash eventually and when reality finally catches up to them all, how will they cope with each of their personal lives crumpling around their ears as battle lines are drawn? To add insult to injury, Peter Quill, an underdog, has just joined the series and has immediately pulled out the big guns. The championship has never mattered so much before.Otherwise known as (almost) the whole MCU warped into the world of NASCAR.





	Dirty Air

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this idea pestered me until I wrote a rough outline down and then it just got more and more complex as I added in characters and created arcs. This idea, to me, is epic and I hope I manage to do it justice. Furthermore, it should be stated that I know very little about the inner workings of NASCAR. I did a lot of research and tried to make it as realistic as possible but I’m almost certain there will probably be some mistakes buried away in there somewhere. Please excuse me, most of my knowledge of motorsports comes from the V8 Supercars and the handful amount of times I went to the speedway to watch the sprint cars. Finally, I also tossed around the idea of making this wander into slash at some point but didn’t want it as a heavy focus so it’s in there but is in no way a leading arc for the story. I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did (in between crying in frustration through writer’s block of course!). Anyway, here we go!
> 
> Read on [LiveJournal](http://gracemurphy.livejournal.com/2083.html)

“With the first stage of the Daytona 500 just under an hour away, the Monster Energy Cup Series is already red hot. The rumour mill has been churning out some juicy details of a potential feud brewing within the Avengers for quiet some time now and fans are drawing their battle lines.”

Tony paused in his pacing and clicked his fingers with an order to turn the television up. The busty, blonde reporter smiled widely on screen as she listed off all of the unconfirmed facts of the supposed feud. Unconfirmed yes, completely false no. He resumed his attempt at burning a hole through the concrete.

“As you may remember, the Chitauri controversy that surrounded the sport back in 2012 threatened a complete collapse following the exposure of corruption within the board and subsequent dismissal of numerous officials and drivers. It was the golden trio that renewed fans’ faith and brought NASCAR back to it’s glory days as they secured championship after championship. After years of a friendly alliance, Rogers and Stark seem to be distancing themselves from one another and Odinson has been tight-lipped on the matter. Perhaps Stark’s extravagant lifestyle has become too much for Rogers to swallow.” 

Tony had fucked her once. Way back when he first started out in NASCAR, he had charmed her into his bed after an interview and gave her night to never forget. He squinted at her with distaste as she betrayed him in front of the whole nation.

“After all, buying your way into the sport must be a major insult to a veteran driver like-”

The television suddenly blacked out and Tony immediately swung around to glare at the culprit. Rhodey didn’t bother to try appear innocent and Tony pouted. He hated that his friend knew him so well, he was really rooting for an argument. Rhodey threw the remote out of the way and stepped to stand in front of Tony, arms crossed. 

“Come on T, you’ve got a race to focus on.”

Ignoring him, Tony winged, “I didn’t _buy_ my way in.”

“Well, I mean you kinda did.”

“Doesn’t count. The rule book says I’m allowed to sponsor myself,” snapped Tony in reply, rapid fire and aimed at getting his friend going. 

“That’s not…” Rhodey started but trailed off with a shake of his head. Tony tried to not feel disappointed at reeling in his line with only a small nibble. “Race Tony. Stay focused.”

“Yeah, yeah. Always.”

The pacing resumed. He was lighter on his feet this time though. He stopped towards the front of the garage and bounced on his toes. Shaking out his hands, Tony tried to clear the jitters that crawled up his legs and all over his body. He could do this. He has done this. 

There was so much resting on the first win of the season. Besides a head start in the fight for the championship and the fact that it was Daytona - the Super Bowl of NASCAR - Tony wanted nothing more than to throw it in Rogers’ smug face. He thought it would make a nice little ‘fuck you’. He grinned at the thought. 

“Sir, you’ve got five minutes remaining,” JARVIS informed him from his StarkPhone where it rested on top of the tool box. 

Tony nodded his head in acknowledgement and made his way outside. Slipping his arms through his race suit, he watched as Romanoff stretched out her arms over head. She was always so calm. He was more than certain he has only ever seen two expressions on her face: blank calmness and fiery bitchiness - the later felt at full force on numerous rememberable occasions. The red head smiled over at him once she noticed his attention, dropping her arms with a wide, casual swing. He opened his mouth to wish her luck but it was promptly snapped shut as his pit crew rushed in and cut him off. 

“Okay Tony, you ready?” Happy inquired, his headphones pulled down and sitting around his neck.

“As always.”

Smiling, Tony patted him on the shoulder and stepped away. He always hated this bit. Anyone worth a grain of salt knew that patience and Tony Stark didn’t exactly go together in a single sentence - Hell, not even the same paragraph. He has always been the more do it now or do it never kinda person. He came to rest beside his car, pointedly ignoring the race team lined up in front of him. The obnoxious red, blue and white colour scheme made him want to hurl just picturing it in his head. 

The rest of his pit crew joined and the huge crowd fell silent as the Star Spangled Banner sung out. As soon as all of the formalities were finished up and a handful of fireworks were set off with a loud band, Tony slid his sunglasses off and pulled his helmet into place. Rhodey thumped him on the shoulder and wished him luck. With one last glance down the line, he saw Romanoff was already seated and Odinson behind her in the process of squeezing his oversized body in his own stock car. Tony followed suit, immediately adjusting himself before strapping in.

Nothing else mattered now. He tuned out all of the loud noise and cheering outside, focusing only on the voice of his crew and the task at hand with the cold determination he usually only reserved for one of his creations. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, now time for the most famous words in motorsport. Please welcome Daytona Beach head sheriff David Johnson.”

Tony’s blood started to pump harder. Wiggling his fingers on the steering wheel his vision narrowed in on the bumper of Rogers’ car in front. He blew out a long breath as the seconds stretched out.

“Drivers start your engines!”

Never one to be told twice, Tony’s car roared to life with a spectator and distinct growl. His call was returned by the forty-two other cars, the crowd disappearing under the sound of engines. This is what drew him to the sport in the first place. The sheer power helped reminded him that he was alive and very much in control. 

Tony smiled like a loon and launched forwards in chase of the pace car. He rolled up next to Rogers’ outside, shooting brief glances at the American flag adorned stock car. The sight of blue eyes glaring back at him prompted Tony to momentarily stick his middle finger up and blow a kiss before he finally turned away with a determined pout and focused ahead. He was definitely going to fuck over Rogers’ today. 

Rounding the fourth corner of the final lap and onto the straight, the green flag waved and he slammed down on the accelerator, launching even faster forwards in the quick race to the front. He forced Rogers’ back with a hair’s breadth. Immediately locked on to, Tony skilfully handled the constant pull of the steering to the left and guided his car quickly through the bend. At the precise moment required, he gave it more gas and launched down the straight, Rogers’ still hard on his tail. 

Ever the tactician, Rogers’ managed to out manoeuvre him during the thirty-second lap. Tony swore and snapped at Rhodey’s calm reinsurance over his internal headphones. He glowered at the blue and white star spoiler that proudly identified itself as ‘Team Captain America’. He stuck close behind Rogers’ and fought for another ten long laps. 

It was Rhodey who notified him of another potential problem: Odinson. The Asgardian had slipped past Romanoff meaning Tony was next his next target. He tried to not roll his eyes at the thought of the ‘Golden Trio’ back at it again. Partly because it was so pathetic that it didn’t deserve any form of acknowledgement but mostly because it would be a dire mistake at around two hundred miles per hour. If he was going to play with fire and cause a wreck, it was going to be a purposeful nudge to Rogers’ left side rear to spin him out of first place.

Zooming through corner two the yellow flag came out. Backing off, he completed the lap as the pace car raced out onto the track way up ahead. Tony smiled widely as Rhodey chattered to him about his options regarding a pit stop. It was perfect, just what he needed. He moved into position behind the red Camaro and revved, waiting for pit lane to open up.

After rolling around the oval track once more, Tony detoured down pit lane, eyeing all of the team signs until he recognised the red and gold ’29’. He pulled in and his car was promptly jacked up and serviced according to Happy and JARVIS’s orders. Tony was back out seconds later and fifth in line behind the pace car. Rogers’ had also annoyingly sped through his own pit stop with fast-paced ease and continued to sit in from of him, behind Barton and Romanoff who must have decided to stick it out. 

Tony swerved side to side and jolted forwards in short bursts. He trilled his fingers on the steering wheel and turned into the first corner. He couldn’t wait to leave Rogers’ behind in his dust yet again. He was chomping at the bit and his body ached with the restraint he currently had on it.

When the caution was lifted thought, it didn’t exactly go to plan. He and Rogers had always been strangely in sync and Tony would have happily bet all of his billions on the fact that the blonde knew exactly what he was thinking. The green flag waved and the stock cars all took off, Rogers moved left which left Tony with nowhere to go besides right behind him as Lang cut off his fall back option of going wide. He gritted his teeth.

“Cool it T,” warned Rhodey. “Keep on him but don’t do anything stupid. There’s still another twelve laps left in this stage.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Tony lied with faux-innocence. 

Rhodey didn’t grace it with a response and instead rattled off a few questions regarding the current performance of the car. It was business as usual with ‘Rhodey the Rock’. Tony marked out all of his observations and allocated just a small part of his attention span to using his intelligence for problem solving while he now sat just inside of Romanoff.

“It’s feeling a bit tight for my liking.”

“Complete tyre change?”

Tony thought about it for exactly half a second before he brushed it off, “Nah, I’ll make do. I don’t want to fall behind this close to the end of the first stage.”

“Need those points,” agreed Rhodey.

Pulling out of the fourth corner, Tony used his fast reflects to slam down on the accelerator and launched down the straight just that little bit faster than Romanoff. She fell back behind him and he paid her no mind as he moved into fourth place just in time for the conclusion of the first stage. He was content to sit just here for a while now, there was still a couple of hours until the checkered flag.

“Sixty down, one hundred and forty to go. Let’s do this!”

* * *

When it came down to it, they definitely put on a show that rivalled even the most nail biting football game. There were just nine laps left in the final stage and they were all neck-to-neck. Tony continued to hold his hard fought first place position with Rogers’ right behind. Odinson had joined the fight not too long ago and he rode around the latest corner right on Rogers’ arse and that subsequently meant he was right on Tony’s tail too. 

“Okay Tony, you’ve got a clear lead as long as you keep Rogers’ out from your inside.”

“And Odinson?”

“Sandwiching your boyfriend but not appearing to get too frisky just yet. I would say your relationship is safe from being corrupted for now.”“Not funny,” gritted out Tony tensely. 

“Come on, it is just a little bit,” Rhodey laughed before he snapped back into professionalism, just a trace of humour lingered in his voice. “Here’s some room for movement behind ‘Goldie Locks’.”

“Okay, good. Let’s bring this home.”

Moving the steering wheel just the exact amount needed, Tony guided the stock car into the turn making sure to keep Rogers’ out. He was under a lot of pressure, even the smallest slip up could cost him the win. It was such a slippery, slimily thing that took a lot of practice to held and keep from oozing away. Luckily for him, he had dealt with the repulsive substance since he could stand and walk on his own.

The white flag signalled an all out war. Tony was already nearing his maximum speed but walked the fine line as he pushed it just that little bit faster. Every hair length was important after all. He came out of the second corner just a little bit too wide and Rogers’ keen eye must have noticed the small slip up as it happened because he immediately placed himself on Tony’s inside. The blue car nosed its way just past the back of Tony’s and he held his breath. He knew exactly where this was going and he tried to bail out. 

A soft nudge just as he prepared for the final turn and the control was ripped out from under his hands. Tony saw the track spin before he was suddenly facing the grass. He had a split second to recognise just how not good this was before Rogers’ slammed into his wayward car for a second time, this time a lot harder than the first. There was smoke and he felt sick as he was thrown around like a rag doll. He still held onto the steering wheel, unable to force himself to let go even if he wanted to as another loud bang was heard. He screwed his eyes tightly shut as he rolled. 

He was dead. That was it, there were no questions about it. He certainly felt like it as his heart had embedded itself in his throat and his joints screamed at him. A final thud rocked him and he peeled his eyes open. He wasn’t meet by the sight of orange flames or fluffy white clouds and large golden gates. So maybe not dead after all. That was always a bonus he guessed. Letting out an unsteady breath, Tony blinked, not quite processing what just happened.

“Tony. Tony!”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Oh, thank God. You okay?”

“I think so.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Besides his aching joints, he was numb, he couldn’t feel his legs. They could have been severed for all he was concerned.

Reading his mind as Tony made his decision, Rhodey asked him as he moved to climb out, “Can you move?” 

“Yeah,” he grunted as he hauled himself out the squashed window. For the first time in a while he was glad for his small build. There was no way he was getting out of that small, warped metal hole otherwise.

With a shaky, unsure step, he lowered his left leg down onto the dug up grass. Somewhat convinced it would bare his weight, he stepped his right leg out and moved into the steading arm of the crash crew. 

Hating the feeling of being trapped by his helmet and not being able to get in enough air, Tony tore it off and dropped it on the ground. He sucked in a handful of greedy breathes while the image of dirty faces and beards melted away from his mind. With the world tilting for a moment, the arm on his right shoulder snaked around his back and gripped on tighter. He was grateful for the silent support, not that he’ll ever admitted it though. 

Glancing around, Tony slowly became familiar with the touch of the physical world around him as the shock drain away and the crowd’s roar grew. He blinked against the harsh sunlight and took in the scene. 

Based on the damage he could see, he thanked his lucky stars that he somehow managed to get out scot-free. His car was totalled, lying in the grass with its bonnet crumpled and left side caved in. Further up the track was Rogers’ cheesy American themed car in a similar predicament and Tony was surprised to also find Odinson’s car right beside it. The large blonde seemed as though he was arguing with Rogers’ and Tony watched on with interest in the hope that the Asgardian would just punch Rogers’ in his stupid, straight white teeth for such a bonehead move. Odinson, true to all of Tony’s personal experiences, never got physical unless it was completely necessary and now was no different. It was some regal thing or something from his home land. He was promptly guided away. Tony scoffed and let his nails dig painfully into his palms. The idiot had cost them all due to his stupidity.

The celebrations went on around him as he found himself guided back in to Team Iron Man’s garage. Burnt rubber lingered in the air and various pit crews yelled obnoxiously in glee. Tony stripped his race suit down to his waist, tying the arms around his hips to keep it in place, and hissed when a cut on his forearm made itself known. A glance down at the grumpy appendage confirmed his suspicions. A long, deep and bloody slice run almost the entire length of his right forearm. Maybe it wasn’t scot-free after all. Tony and luck were never on good terms anyway.

“I’ll get something for that,” Happy said with a worried look causing Tony to snap his attention up to his car chief. He rushed away and out of sight and Tony stared after him.

Pouting Tony, swung his arms and sunk down to the ground exhausted. He leant back against his back-up car and closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe it was yanked away like that. He was just an arms reach away from the win and of course Rogers’ had to pull a dick move and cost the race - Daytona for fuck sake - for all of them. It was so typical of him now though, it was like Tony didn’t even recognise the man anymore. His blood boiled as he thought about the potential cause of the Avenger’s rupture. 

“How’re feeling man?”

He peeked his eyes open at Rhodey’s voice. “I’ll feel worse after Pepper chews me out tonight.”

“What about me?”“What about you?” asked Tony. He lifted his head away from the car and stared hard at his friend in confusion.

“What, you’re not scared of me or something? Do my lectures not strike the fear of God right into your very soul? I’m the—”

“You don’t strike anything into me—” Tony interrupted.

“—Crew Chief, you should have some form of respect…” drew on Rhodey before he finally gave up and let the words die off.

“—Maybe a sense of questioning why we ever friends.”

It ended with a stare off, each participant looking bewildered at one another in amazement. Tony’s face was more of a mocking facade though while Rhodey’s was that of what he assumed was a legitimate debate on why he still stuck around. Tony loved Rhodey. 

The spell was only broken after Happy flew back in, first aid kit in hand. He blundered over to Tony’s side and crouched down on one knee before he started his overly thorough and overly annoying inspection of Tony’s only battle wound. Tony tried to convince him it was all right but the other man wasn’t having a bar of it. He snapped at him to stop fidgeting and went back to work. Tony glared at Rhodey’s sastisfied and amused look. 

“When you’re done Happy, clean our little princess up a bit. He needs to be pristine for his date with the media.”

Tony groaned, a well justified long, drawn out sound of suffering, while Happy just agreed, “On it.”

“Oh and Tony,” added Rhodey on an after thought. He stopped his exit from the garage and turned back around. “Keep it civil. We don’t need to fuel the rumours on day one. We’ve got a long season ahead.”

“You know me: civil and humble.”

“I’m serious. I’ll get Pepper on the phone if I have to.” It was a final warning, a successful warning and he was gone. Sulking like a child, Tony crossed his arms and let Happy wipe away dirt and sweat from his face. 

Some time later, Happy eventually coerced him into crawling out of his little ‘crib’ - Happy’s description not his apparently based on Tony’s behaviour - and into a brand new Tom Ford three-piece suit. The promise of coffee and a donut on the way back to the hotel helped the car chief a lot. Tony never passed up an opportunity for caffeine and a sweet treat to wash it down.

Smoothing down his suit, Tony brushed his fingers through his hair to make it stand up stylishly again. He hated the hat-hair look. It look sloppy. He never sported it, even after an all-nighter in his labs. If there was one thing more than his suits that Tony was anal about it was his hair. Satisfied and the garage almost completely packed up, he started his trek out to the where the press conferences were being held. Rhodey appeared through the hectic crowd of crews, drivers and officials to walk alongside him without a word. 

Rhodey still hadn’t said anything when Tony was finally let into the poky room and took his seat behind the microphones, squinting against the flashes. All he needed to do was shoot Tony that look that promised hell fire if he let loose on what he really thought about Rogers to keep Tony on the straight and narrow - all his answers scripted and impartial, on the fence. 

He smiled charmingly and laughed at the right times and the media ate it up. Of course they did, he was a professional. He had been running Stark Industries for years and had been in the spotlight for longer. He smiled over at Rhodey, a silent, cocky ‘I don’t need you holding my hand’ look.

“What are your thoughts on Peter Quill,” randomly threw out a male reporter up the back. It was a curveball and Tony blinked, silent.

“Who?”

“Peter Quill, driver of car number forty-two for Team Star-Lord.”

Tony arched his eyebrow, still coming up blank. He had never heard of the kid. He shot a confused glance to his right at Rhodey for help. His crew chief only supplied him with a shrug. 

Obviously sensing Tony’s cluelessness, the reporter scribbled something down on his notepad before he looked back up and explained, “He’s the driver who took out the win today, both overall and in points, following the Avenger’s crash.”

“Oh.”

Peter Quill. Tony stored that name in the back of his mind. He already didn’t like the kid based on the fact he took advantage and stole what was rightfully his. He was going to have to wait though. Tony had bigger fish to fry first.

“Ah, lucky break I guess,” he stumbled out uncharacteristically. 

“He’s already been described as an underdog, someone to watch out for this year,” the reporter went on and Tony had to really try hard to not curl his lip in distaste. He really didn’t give a fuck about some rookie no-name. 

“Good for him I guess.”

More pointless questions, questions that have been asked and answered more times than Tony cared to count and he started to bounce his leg under the table. He shot a brief look at the clock on the side wall and estimated how much longer this torture would last. He might have been a seasoned interviewee but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. He would rather burn through his hand with a soldering iron. 

“Mr Stark, one final question,” stated a blonde reporter right at the front. Tony’s blood boiled before she even started her probe as he recognised her from the television - and that one time in bed. “Your feud between fellow Avenger Steve Rogers has been described as a civil war. Do you think it will split racing in two?”

“There is no feud. I’m sorry but I’m not quiet sure what you’re talking about.” Deny, deny, deny.

“The tension between the two of you has been hard to ignore and fans have already chosen their sides. Do you think this will create a huge divide that will impact NASCAR?”

“Our friendship is as stronger as ever” lied Tony and Rhodey was tense beside him. He had reached the end of his none existent patience. “I’m out here to race and win. That is all. Thank you, no more questions.”

Tony abruptly stood up, his chair screeching back with a loud wine and he stormed out of the room. His blood boiled and he glared over at Rogers’ back where he stood in the hallway as he waited for his turn be to grilled. He was talking to Barton and paid Tony no mind. Tony then spied Rogers’ loyal lap dog Bucky and immediately turned on his heel and made his way outside through through the back passage. Blood welled from the small, crescent-spaced moons in his palms but he didn’t let up the pressure. 

Sunglasses on, he strode away to where Happy was waiting in a black SUV to cart him away, thoughts already running over time on potential adjustments he could make to his car that would squash Rogers in Atlanta. As an attempt to distract himself - bad thoughts got exhausting after a while - he pulled out his StarkPhone and tuned into AIM Racing. He wasn’t exactly surprised to see his face on screen.

“Tony Stark, driver of car number twenty-nine for Team Iron Man or more famously known as the playboy son of Howard Stark, stormed out of a press conference after being grilled about his ongoing feud with Steve Rogers.”

Tony sighed loudly and slumped in his seat. He hated the media, they were all savage dogs just waiting to tear apart their latest victim. It was the thought of Pepper going off at him today as she worked to salvage his public image though that brought on the headache. Between that and her almost certain mothering he was going to be subjected to tonight following his crash, Tony didn’t think he would make it to day break tomorrow morning.

“Now crossing live to our reporter on the ground. Sylvia, what can we take from this footage?”

“Well it certainly confirms our suspicious of the tension between the two,” surmised the same blonde reporter that had been hounding Tony all day. Tony really regretted ever taking her to bed, she wasn’t even that good anyway. “It came as a surprise to almost everyone that the Rogers became close with Stark following his return to the sport after his shock and sudden retirement back in 2007 to become the full time carer of his friend James Barnes, a returning POW from Russia. It appears now though that the Avengers was just a shaky alliance between Teams Captain America, Iron Man and Thor as an expert marketing tool.”

“Sir, I suggest that perhaps you turn the broadcast off,” JARVIS said and Tony frowned down at his phone. It was only then that he realised that the fragile metal under his fingers was bending under the force of him squeezing it. 

Blood pooled in his left, clenched fist and Tony let JARVIS shut off AIM Racing for him. He looked up and out the window with unseeing eyes and his blood boiled while he battled with the overwhelming urge to toss his phone out the window. He really wanted to smash something right about now. 

“None it is true,” he mumbled to no one in particular.

“It’s the media Tony,” Happy drawled up head in the driver’s seat. “They live for this kind of crap. You already know that. You’ve just got to not feed them and they’ll eventually die off.”

Happy was right. Tony did know all of this. This certainly wasn’t the first scandal he’s ever been linked to, not even the tenth. There was just something about this particular one though that grated at his nerves. He could practically hear Rhodey’s voice telling him that it was because the wound was still fresh and festering. All of his other sensational cover stories usually revolved around his playboy exploits and never failed to bring him great pleasure. Tony didn’t like being used as a toy to be tossed away when the new, latest shiny edition came out. He certainly didn’t like it when the media got wind of it either.

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Tony pushed his sunglasses back up his nose. With a determined set to his jaw, he resolved to bring Rogers down. He was going to win the championship and he was going to do it with the most thought-out plan he has ever concocted and stuck to. The other man won’t even see it coming. Now, all he needed was some drivers on his side to help in out in the battle.


End file.
